Rain hammered the asphalt. Each drop exploded on the slick blacktop, sending up miniature geysers. Streetlights blurred into watery halos, painting the city in a melancholy glow. Kaito stood still beneath the overhang of a noodle shop, a silent sentinel. His umbrella, a simple black one, remained closed, tucked neatly beside his leg. He didn't need it. Not yet. His gaze swept the bustling intersection. Faces rushed past, heads bowed against the downpour. Taxis splashed through puddles. The city hummed with damp, hurried life. Nothing seemed amiss. Everything appeared normal. Yet, a prickle crawled up his spine. An old instinct, sharpened by years of vigilance, screamed a warning. Kaito’s fingers tightened almost imperceptibly on the ribbed handle of his umbrella. He watched her. Anya, his charge. She sat inside the noodle shop, a small, vibrant splash of color against the muted backdrop. Her laughter, light and clear, occasionally drifted through the open door. She ate her ramen with chopsticks, completely oblivious to the unseen currents swirling around her. Her phone rested beside her bowl, displaying a cheerful, brightly colored game. Kaito had watched her for months. A quiet, diligent routine. University classes, part-time work at a bookstore, late-night study sessions fueled by instant coffee. She had no idea. No idea of the threats. No idea of him. A sudden gust of wind whipped through the street, rattling the metal awnings. It tore at the sparse leaves still clinging to the ginkgo trees, sending them spinning into the rain-slicked gutters. Kaito’s eyes narrowed. His focus sharpened, extending beyond the immediate vicinity. He scanned the darkened alleys, the reflections in shop windows, the distant rooftops. Someone was watching. He felt it. A cold, predatory stare. A black van, too clean for this part of the city, idled at the far end of the block. Its windows were tinted dark, reflecting only the distorted streetlights. It had been there for ten minutes. Too long. Kaito exhaled slowly, a wisp of vapor in the cool night air. His muscles tensed, readying for action. His hand slid from the umbrella handle, settling on a different, more familiar grip hidden beneath his coat. He had promised. A silent vow, made long ago, to protect her. At any cost. Suddenly, a figure emerged from a narrow alleyway directly across from the noodle shop. Tall, lean, clad in a dark, hooded jacket. The hood obscured their face entirely. The figure carried no umbrella. The rain seemed to avoid them, or they simply ignored it. They moved with a predatory grace, their eyes – Kaito knew, even from this distance – fixed solely on Anya. Kaito’s breath hitched. They were making a move. Now. He pushed off the wall, his movements fluid and silent. His closed umbrella swung forward, a natural extension of his arm. It wasn’t a weapon, not in the traditional sense, but in his hands, it could be anything. He crossed the street, a blur of motion against the flickering city lights. The black van at the end of the block roared to life, its engine growling. Its front wheels spun, tires spitting water. Anya looked up from her ramen, a flicker of unease crossing her features. Her gaze darted towards the dark figure. Her smile faltered. The hooded person quickened their pace. A glint of metal appeared in their hand. Not a gun. A blade. Long, curved, reflecting the neon signs with an ominous gleam. Kaito knew that blade. The signature of a particular guild. Ruthless. Efficient. "Anya!" he called out, his voice a low, urgent rumble, cutting through the din of the rain. It was the first time she’d heard it. The first time he'd broken his silence. She gasped, startled, her head whipping towards him. Her eyes widened, a mixture of fear and confusion. She didn't recognize him. How could she? The hooded figure lunged. Kaito moved faster. His umbrella snapped open with a sharp, percussive thwack. Not above his head, but directly in front of him, a circular shield of black fabric. The van screeched to a halt near the curb, its side door sliding open with a soft hiss. Two more figures, also hooded, emerged, converging on Anya's position. Kaito intercepted the first attacker. The curved blade scraped against the taut fabric of the umbrella with a grating screech. Sparks flew. The umbrella shuddered in his grip. The impact vibrated up his arm, but his stance remained firm. He twisted his wrist, using the umbrella’s resistance to deflect the blade wide, throwing the attacker off balance. He didn't pause. He spun, bringing the reinforced tip of the umbrella around in a swift, unexpected arc. It connected with the attacker’s side with a dull thud. A grunt of pain. The figure stumbled back, clutching their ribs. The blade clattered to the wet pavement. Kaito didn't retrieve it. No time. The other two figures were almost at Anya's table. She was frozen, eyes wide, paralyzed by terror. "Run!" Kaito shouted, his voice hoarse with urgency. He shoved the first attacker away with a brutal push from the umbrella’s canopy, sending them sprawling into a puddle. Then he launched himself towards the other two. The umbrella became a blunt instrument, a barrier, a distraction. He swung it wide, forcing them to duck, creating a precious second of delay. Anya jolted, her instincts finally kicking in. She scrambled out of the booth, knocking over her chair. The ramen bowl crashed to the floor, shards of ceramic scattering. One of the new attackers, faster than the first, pulled a small, wicked-looking pistol from their jacket. It gleamed, wet and dangerous. Kaito saw it. His heart seized. A gun changed everything. He pivoted, placing himself between Anya and the armed attacker. The black umbrella, still open, became his sole defense. A thin, inadequate barrier against a bullet. "Get back!" he commanded, pushing Anya with his free hand. The attacker raised the pistol. The barrel glinted, aimed directly at Anya's retreating form. No. Not on his watch. Kaito didn't hesitate. He pulled the umbrella back, then thrust it forward with all his might. The action was more than a simple push; it was a practiced, precise strike. The umbrella’s shaft, reinforced with a lightweight alloy, shot out like a spear. The blunt, metal-capped tip slammed into the attacker’s wrist. A sharp cry of pain. The pistol flew from their grasp, skittering across the slick floor and disappearing under a table. The attacker, stunned, clutched their injured hand. Their face, partially revealed as their hood slipped, contorted in agony. Kaito pressed his advantage. He swept the umbrella low, knocking their legs out from under them. The figure collapsed in a heap. Now, only one remained from the van, and the first one Kaito had engaged was slowly pushing themselves up from the street. "Go! Get out of here!" Kaito roared at Anya. She didn't need to be told twice. Her legs, finally regaining their purpose, propelled her into a desperate sprint down the street, away from the chaos. Kaito stood his ground, the black umbrella held firmly before him. He was a lone figure, a silent guardian, facing down three armed assailants. The rain continued to pour, washing over the scene of shattered ceramic and scattered ramen. The last remaining attacker from the van, seeing his comrades incapacitated, made a tactical decision. He retreated, sliding back into the waiting black vehicle. Its doors slammed shut. The engine revved, and the van sped away, disappearing into the watery urban night. Kaito didn't pursue. His focus remained on the two figures groaning on the ground. The first one, clutching their ribs, slowly pushed themselves to a kneeling position, retrieving their dropped blade. The second, wrist throbbing, glared at Kaito, raw hatred in their exposed eyes. Kaito knew this wasn't over. They wouldn't give up so easily. He had saved Anya, but he had also revealed himself. His silence, his anonymity, shattered. The umbrella, still open, dripped water onto the pavement, a dark, protective circle. He looked at the two assailants, then glanced down the street where Anya had fled. She was safe, for now. But the cost of that safety weighed heavily. He had stepped into the light. He had made himself a target. The man with the injured wrist, now standing unsteadily, lunged, his remaining hand reaching for Kaito’s throat. His hood finally fell completely, revealing a scarred, sneering face. "You made a mistake," the man rasped, his eyes burning with vengeful fire. Kaito didn't speak. He tightened his grip on the umbrella’s handle. He could hear the faint wail of distant sirens, growing louder. Backup would arrive soon. For Anya. But for him? He was alone. The scarred man closed in, blade now in his good hand, a snarl twisting his lips. He moved with a speed that belied his injury. Kaito met his charge, the umbrella’s black canopy a stark contrast against the man’s furious approach. He knew the blade would be fast. He knew his defense had to be faster. He had to end this before the police arrived, before more questions were asked, before Anya's world was completely upended. He had to disappear again. But first, this. The scarred man lunged, his blade arcing in a deadly sweep. Kaito pivoted, his umbrella still up, but this time, he didn't block. Instead, with a sudden, devastating twist, the black fabric snapped back, revealing the glint of steel hidden within its core. It wasn't just an umbrella. It was a sword.

Chapter 1: The First Drop